Xia Yuqing stirred the pot slowly, pretending not to notice the way his breath kissed the back of her neck. But it was impossible to ignore. Every inch of her was aware of him—the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back, the warmth of his arms that had now wrapped more firmly around her waist.
"Lu Jinchen..." she whispered again, but her voice lacked conviction this time. It trembled like the steam rising from the pot.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing just beneath her ear. "You're trembling," he murmured, his voice husky and low, vibrating through her. "Are you cold... or is it me?"
She closed her eyes. "Don't flirt while I'm cooking," she muttered, but her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.
"I'm not flirting," he said, placing a soft kiss against her bare shoulder. "I'm just touching what's mine."
Her breath hitched.
